


Keep You from the Gallows Pole

by Fallynleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 10 Finale, Asexual Relationship, Charlie Lives, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Implied Unrequited Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain Cure, Season/Series 10, Tea, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallynleaf/pseuds/Fallynleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 10, if it were the love story of Sam and Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You from the Gallows Pole

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts before season 10, and follows parallel to the canon up until episode 10.21 Dark Dynasty, which is when it departs significantly from the show. The quotes between sections are snippets of Cas and Sam's canon interactions in season 10. Several other lines and interactions in this fic are taken directly from the canon, though I take a couple of them incredibly out of context.
> 
> I started this fic months and months ago, but decided to finish it in time for International Fanworks Day!
> 
> The title is from "Gallows Pole" by Led Zeppelin.

It was a warm autumn night, and Sam could feel Cas shivering beside him, because Cas's grace died in bursts of fever. The fever slowed his reaction time and made his movements a little sluggish. Imperceptibly so, mostly, except when it mattered.

Which was how Sam ended up spending the last part of the night looking up at the waxing moon through the skeletal branches as he lay on the ground and tried not to think about the pain in his shoulder. Then Cas's face leaned over him, and Cas's lips formed his name, and Sam said: "Drive me to the hospital."

Cas stayed with him the entire time. He took Sam's hand at one point, and Sam gripped him tight when the pain was at its worst.

They checked out as soon as the nurses would let Sam leave. Cas drove the way back to the Bunker, and Sam just leaned back in the seat and watched the light from the stars and passing headlights dance across Cas's face.

"I'm sorry," Cas said.

"I know."

It was a weird night, and Sam found himself suddenly missing Dean with such a fierce, aching longing, it caught him off guard. He was grateful to Cas, of course, but hunting with Cas wasn't the same as hunting with Dean, and part of Sam still wanted to call out to his older brother when he got hurt, even though he knew that Dean couldn't make most things okay, no matter how much he tried to and pretended to.

And the road felt very empty and arbitrary all of a sudden. Sam knew they were heading home, but without Dean waiting there for them, he felt aimless and lost, adrift on yet another stretch of unfamiliar asphalt.

The feeling didn't go away when they arrived back at the Bunker.

Sam walked inside, Cas half a pace behind him, and then Sam stopped abruptly just inside the door and couldn't bring himself to go any further. He didn't even notice he was crying until he felt tears beading down his cheek.

At some point, he felt Cas's arm wrap around him as a gesture of both physical and emotional support, and then Sam found himself sitting down on the side of his bed, and Cas was offering him a steaming mug.

It was herbal tea. Chamomile lavender.

With Dean no longer around to make fun of him for it, Sam had started drinking tea regularly. He still kept it stashed away like it was porn just in case they got Dean back earlier than expected, but Cas knew where to find it. Sam usually fixed them both several cups of tea a day, especially during the slow research days, where too much coffee tended to make him jittery.

"Thanks," Sam said, his voice rough.

Cas had clearly been learning from how Sam took care of _him_. Sometimes sickness and sadness weren't all that different.

But Cas left him alone, after that. Sam held the mug in his hand until the last couple sips of tea were cooler than lukewarm. Then he emerged from his room, returned the mug to the sink in the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of something stronger.

A couple drinks later, he was laughing and leaning into Cas where they sat a little too closely together. It was still a shitty night, but Sam wasn't letting himself think about that. He tried to think of other things, find something else to fixate on, but there was an alcohol-induced Gaussian blur over his mind, and the only thing in focus was the blue of Cas's eyes.

Sam didn't remember when he'd placed his hand on Cas's shoulder. He just knew that he didn't want to take it away. Didn't want to let go of the one thing he had left.

Then his hand was on Cas's neck, and then his cheek. Sam stroked Cas's skin with his thumb, felt the gentle rasp of stubble on his jaw.

Then Sam tipped Cas's face up and leaned in and kissed him.

And froze.

_What am I doing?_ Sam had a sudden moment of clarity, and he used it to stumble away from Cas, knowing that his eyes were wide and afraid, his heart just beginning a cold plummet in his chest. _Is this something I even wanted?_ Cas's lips were warm and pliant. Sam licked his own lips, chasing the memory impression of it.

But really, that question didn't even matter, because Sam knew that this wasn't something that _Cas_ wanted.

"I‒" Sam started, his mouth dry. "Sorry. I just‒ _Sorry_." He tripped over the words, knowing that nothing he could say would be enough.

Cas just stared at him.

"You should probably..." Sam swallowed.

"Leave?" Cas asked softly.

Sam nodded.

"It's because of Dean," he said, quietly. "I just... need someone else when he's not here. I cling to whoever's closest." An image of Amelia flickered by in his memory like a washed-out photo. He thought of Ruby, next. And even Jess, though that was not a thought he wanted to pursue further‒especially while he was drunk.

"And it's not fair to that person," Sam continued. "So I'm not‒ I can't do that to you."

"I understand," Cas said. His eyes looked sad, as they always did. Sam forced himself to look away, determined to keep himself from becoming a maudlin drunk until at least the only person he could bring down was himself.

Sam didn't watch Cas leave. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to let him go.

 

* * *

 

_"I can help."_

_"Cas...we tried that."_

_"Sam...you can't blame what that demon did to your shoulder on me; you were out of..."_

_"I'm not, I'm not blaming anything on you. What happened, happened, and...you need to be worrying about yourself. I really shouldn't have bothered you."_

_"How are you, Sam?"_

_"Good. I'm alright. I'm just...tired, you know. Be better when we get him back...after...after I kick his butt."_

_"I miss him."_

_"Yeah."_

* * *

 

They checked in every day over phone. Kept each other updated, asked " _how are you?_ " and received the same lie in response: " _I'm alright_." Sam tried not to think about Cas a whole lot, though. He didn't want to fool himself into thinking he was in love. Whatever he thought he was feeling, it was just a chimera, a product of the stupid codependency between him and his brother.

So he did what he could, which was fight things and search for information. Try his damndest to get through the fucking day so that he could pass out and then wake up and do it all over again.

And then he actually found Dean. _Saved_ him, even. But Dean wouldn't quite meet Sam's eyes afterward, and things didn't really feel like they were any better. _Dean_ wasn't better.

But watching that musical, of all things, was the first time in a long time that Sam thought maybe they would be okay after all.

He and Dean both silently cried their way through "Carry On Wayward Son," and it felt like catharsis.

Dean didn't even pretend like it hadn't happened afterwards. He just reached up and placed the prop amulet on the rearview mirror, then looked at Sam and smiled, and it was _I love you_ and _we'll get through this_ and so many other unsaid phrases, truer than any words Dean could have uttered instead.

The amulet kept sliding off of the mirror, but Dean pocketed it, this time.

Sam couldn't get to sleep that night. He suspected that Dean probably couldn't, either, though he was doing a convincing job of lying still in bed with his eyes closed.

To distract himself from thinking about his family, Sam let himself think about Cas. He wondered if any of their "fans" really did pair him and Cas together. He knew that "Wincest" was a popular pairing, and apparently "Destiel" was popular, too, but no one besides him had said anything about "Sastiel." It's like everyone knew that you could have Dean and Sam without Cas, or you could have Dean and Cas without Sam, but for some reason, Sam and Cas without Dean was unthinkable.

Sam kind of understood where that interpretation came from, honestly. Even when Sam and Cas were alone together, it was somehow still about Dean.

And Sam had never dated or been with a guy before. It just had never really been an option. He wasn't opposed to the possibility, but he wasn't going to intentionally seek it out.

He remembered what it had felt like to kiss Cas, and his heart gave an uncertain jump in his chest. _Cas doesn't love me like that_ , he reminded himself. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Dean, and aimlessly started to pick at a loose thread in the blanket.

When he finally managed to drift off, he slept like crap.

The next day, Carry On Wayward Son came on the radio as they were driving back to Lebanon. Dean's hand hovered over the tuner, but he didn't change the station, even though some part of him clearly wanted to. Some part of Sam kind of wanted him to change it, too. But the rest of him was glad that the song had been given new meaning, that it was something him and Dean could share.

He fell asleep during the next song, his head pressed against the window, with the weight of Dean's gaze resting on him with a soft fondness.

He woke when they reached the Bunker. Then he stepped out of the car, wandered into his room, sat down on his bed, and called Cas to tell him that Dean was doing a bit better.

They both stayed on the line for a minute after the conversation was over. Just listening to the silence on the other end and enjoying the shared sense of relief.

"Take care of yourself, Cas," Sam finally said.

"You too, Sam."

But Dean got worse, after that.

And the next time Sam called Cas, an edge of desperation crept into his voice and he pleaded, "Please just tell me he's going to be okay."

"He's going to be okay, Sam," Cas said. And maybe it was a lie, but Cas told it with such conviction, Sam just closed his eyes and let himself believe in it.

 

* * *

 

_"All right, well, just -- just keep me posted, okay? Yeah, you got it. Wait, Cas. You there? Hey, thanks. Yeah."_

* * *

 

Dean wasn't getting better. But this time, Cas was the one asking if he was going to be okay, and‒

 

* * *

 

_"Yeah, he's, uh, he's better. I mean, he's calmed down now. Cas, we got to -- we got to find Cain, or . . . We got to find something, you know? Right. Yeah, I know. I hear you. Okay. You got it. All right. Thanks."_

* * *

 

They found Cain.

They found Cain, and Dean killed him, and that was it. Their only lead a wash.

"How is he? Sam?" Cas asked.

Sam scrounged for some last reserve of hope, but there was nothing left. No leads, nothing to suggest there was anything they could do.

"Cas..." Sam started. He tried to lie, but _He'll be okay somehow_ stuck in his throat. "Dean's in trouble," he said.

Then he leaned over the table, sunk his face into his hands, and let himself cry.

After the tears had stopped, Sam looked up with a bit of ashamed apprehension, expecting Cas to be still standing there, watching him cry. But Cas was not there, and Sam felt a strange mixture of simultaneous relief and disappointment. He swept his hair out of his face, took a couple steadying breaths, and stood up just as Cas walked back into the room with something in his hands.

"I brought you some tea," Cas said.

"Oh," Sam said. He looked at it. "Um, thanks," he said, a little delayed.

"Do you want to go into another room?" Cas asked.

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

They checked that Dean was asleep first. And, sprawled out on his bed, already twisted into a position that looked uncomfortable, he was.

After that, they settled into Sam's room because it seemed the easiest choice. Neither of them said anything at first. Sam just stared into his tea and waited for the urge to cry to go away.

"There are still possibilities we have not looked into, Sam," Cas said.

"I know," Sam said.

"I can do some research on my own," Cas offered.

"Thanks, Cas." Sam took a breath. "Whatever you think might help. Just... I think we're on our own for this. At least for now."

"You don't want to tell Dean?"

"No," Sam said. "No," he repeated a bit louder. "I don't think he wants us to try anymore." He curled his hand tight into a fist. Dug his fingernails into his palm and tried to focus.

"I am glad that you are willing to accept my help," Cas said. He sat down next to Sam on the bed.

It was just the two of them again. The two of them, desperate to find some way to save Dean. Sam turned towards Cas, and then his breath hitched. He really, really wanted to close the distance between them, to lose himself in someone else until he had his brother back.

Sam started to lean forward. Then he caught himself, and immediately he felt all of the old guilt swimming right back up.

"Fuck, what is _wrong_ with me?" Sam said, scrambling away. He stood up and took a couple steps away from the bed, running his hands through his hair and looking at the floor instead of at Cas. "I'm sorry, Cas, I know you don't want it, and‒"

"You just assumed I would not want it," Cas interrupted. "You never asked." He stood up.

Sam struggled to find the right words. "Because I know you love Dean more," he finally said. "You always have, and you always will."

"And is that not true for you?" Cas asked, his voice sharp.

It was more than true. It was the truest thing about Sam. His love for Dean always came first, above everything else in this world or the next. Sam turned to look at Cas. Miserably, he nodded his head. _Yes_.

"Then we feel the same," Cas whispered.

Sam made a strangled sound that was half a sob. He took a step towards Cas, and this time Cas was the one who closed the distance, his hand catching Sam's face, his fingers gently brushing against Sam's cheek. Sam reached up and mirrored the action on Cas.

They both closed their eyes when they kissed. As kisses go, it was a rather soft one, tender and unsure.

"What's going to happen, y'know, with _us_ ," Sam said, when they reluctantly parted. "After we save him?"

"I don't know," Cas said.

Cas's eyes were sad, and Sam couldn't bear it, so he leaned in and kissed him again. A little deeper this time. It was like any other kiss Sam had shared with someone, except Cas didn't taste like a human. No lingering tastes of food, no bad breath, nothing that set him apart as a living being except for the warmth of his skin and the gentle billow of air from his lungs.

_Don't think about later_ , Sam told himself. For now, it was just him and Cas. And that would have to be enough.

"Can you stay?" Sam asked. "Just for tonight."

The question seemed to surprise Cas. "Yes, of course," he said, after a moment. "Thanks." He smiled.

"For what?" Sam asked, confused.

"For asking me to stay instead of telling me to leave."

Guilt curled in Sam's stomach, but he didn't know how to apologize. Turning Cas away had been the easier option, not the best one.

Before Sam could craft a response, Cas leaned over and kissed him, and it tasted like forgiveness.

They ended up roughly horizontal on Sam's bed. Sam honestly didn't know if he wanted to have sex with Cas or not. He'd stopped genuinely wanting sex after Lucifer had violated his agency in every possible way. But sex was a cheap way of fixing broken things, and if Sam tried hard enough, he could pretend it was intimacy.

Kissing was good, though. And sharing a bed with someone again. Having a warm body to curl into at night when the nightmares got bad, or just when general insomnia stretched out all of the shadows and narrowed the passage of time to a slow crawl.

Cas was pretty good at faking being asleep. He lay still, but not too rigid or tense, and he slowed his breathing to a gentle, even pace. But then, Sam figured he'd probably had a lot of practice after experiencing sleep as a human, and then experiencing it again as a very sick angel.

"Is that boring?" Sam asked. "Just lying there, doing nothing?"

"I'm not doing nothing," Cas said. "I'm sleeping with you."

Sam laughed. It wasn't really that funny, but he wanted to laugh at something for once instead of crying or getting angry.

"I wonder what Dean would do, if he heard you say that to me," Sam said. "He'd probably kick your ass. _Both_ of our asses." Dean tried to be tolerant, but he didn't usually tolerate Sam going off and doing things behind Dean's back. Like doing a demon, for instance. Or an angel. Or just sleeping platonically with one. Not that this was anywhere in the realm of platonic.

"He would be angry at first, but would ultimately grow to accept it," Cas said.

"It would hurt him, though," Sam said. "And he'd bottle it up and repress it, and then one day it would get him killed."

This conversation was a bad idea. Sam didn't want to think about Dean dying. He tightened his hands into fists and mentally kicked himself for bringing it up again.

"Hey, Cas?" Sam said. "In the future, if I start talking about Dean when it's just you and me, please shut me up."

"Of course, Sam," Cas said. He reached over and gently grasped Sam's shoulder, pulling Sam towards him. Sam uncurled his fists so that he could wrap an arm around Cas, holding him tight enough he could almost forget about Dean.

He fell asleep like that. And woke up with the two of them still tangled together.

"We should get some research done while he's still asleep," Sam mumbled between kisses.

They combed through some of the more obscure books in the Men of Letters' collection. The ones Sam and Dean hadn't touched yet because they hadn't expected to find anything helpful in them. And there wasn't.

By the time Dean finally got out of bed, Sam and Cas had abandoned the books and gone to the internet instead. Cas stood behind Sam, leaning over him to see the laptop screen, one hand placed gently on Sam's shoulder.

Cas straightened as soon as they heard Dean walking through the halls. He took a step away from Sam, but still stood a little close, as he tended to do.

And that was the pattern of the whole thing. Sam and Cas hid everything from Dean. The research, their relationship... Everything that mattered. They could get into a fight with Dean about it afterward.

After they found a way to save him.

 

* * *

 

_"Yeah. Yeah, okay, just, um . . . just be there. Yeah. Gotta go."_

 

* * *

 

Talking to Bobby again messed Sam up.

Grieving is a hard, weird process, but Sam had thought he'd finally gotten through it. That he'd made his peace with Bobby's death.

Then he'd talked to the guy again and undid pretty much all of the progress he'd made.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Cas asked.

"No," Sam said, his voice rough. "But I'll be better after this is over."

They sat together in the car, pressed up against each other with Cas's arm around Sam. The car wasn't the most comfortable place to cuddle, but it was warm, and they had time to kill while they were staking out the playground anyways .

Sam turned and kissed the side of Cas's mouth.

Cas looked at him. "We should be paying attention," he warned.

"I know. And we can pay attention in a bit," Sam said. He needed this. Something good to distract him from all of the bad.

And Cas seemed to figure that out, because he didn't protest after that, and for a couple minutes, they turned away from the playground and quietly kissed.

It was going to be the last time for a while, Sam knew. They'd have their hands full with Metatron. And if Sam kept going off on his own to see mysterious boring French films, Dean was definitely going to catch on.

That night, though, was one of the hardest for Sam, even after all of the excitement in Heaven was over. _Especially_ after it was over.

Sam sat in his room, alone, hunched over a crumpled paper with tears streaming down his cheeks.

His phone lit up. " _How are you?_ " said Cas's text.

" _I'm not good, but I think I'm alright_ ," Sam replied.

He looked down at the note. Reread it for probably the twentieth time.

Sam's phone lit up again. He checked the message: " _He wanted to know if you were happy, so_ _I told him about us."_

Sam smiled weakly. He hadn't planned on having a postmortem coming out conversation with _any_ of his parental figures, but he was glad that Bobby seemed to have taken it fine, and that he'd even tried to reassure Sam about Dean's reaction: " _And I'm not asking you to stop, but maybe going behind his back ain't the best idea. Your brother, he can be stubborn. But I think he'd understand."_

Sam was sure that Bobby was right, but he also knew that telling Dean now wasn't a good idea. He'd have to wait for the right time, when he had some good news about the Mark of Cain to go with it.

" _Thank you_ ," Sam texted Cas.

 

* * *

 

_"Anything on the Mark of Cain?"_

_"No. I mean, I’ve been digging for something, for anything, but… I don’t know, Cas."_

_"There is an answer out there. We will find a cure for Dean. Well, just keep digging."_

* * *

 

It was a relief to see Cas again. To speak with him, to touch him. Cas hadn't been stuck with Metatron for long, but god, it had been a hellish time for everyone involved. Cas switched to texting Sam instead of calling after they got tired of their unwelcome eavesdropper, and from then on, Sam received a constant stream of complaints from Cas. At least it was a healthier outlet than Cas just punching Metatron.

Since Charlie and Dean had volunteered to make the grocery run, Sam even got to kiss Cas without having to make an excuse to steal time alone with him.

"Metatron found out," Cas said, after Sam parted in order to take a breath. Cas sounded annoyed. "He made a conjecture after hearing us talk on the phone. Then he proceeded to mock me after you hung up on me." Cas sounded almost hurt.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam said. "Dean came in, and I just... y'know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Metatron's a dick, and I'm sorry you had to put up with him."

"At least it's over," Cas said. "For now."

"Yeah," Sam said. He put on a smile.

It felt good, being around Cas. Validating. It made Sam feel like everything he was doing was good and right, even though it sometimes didn't feel like it. Even after everything Sam had gone through with Cas in the years they'd known each other, Sam still thought of Cas as a being that was inherently good. Whatever _that_ meant in this world.

They caught each other up on everything that had happened since they'd last had a chance to speak with each other. Sam kind of didn't really want to be thinking about it right now, but he knew that this was their best chance to have this conversation, and curing Dean was still the most important priority.

So Sam listened to Cas, reassured him that he'd done the right thing.

And Cas listened to Sam, and told him the same.

It was their way of checking up on each other, of offering support and affirmation. _You're okay._ We're _okay._ It didn't matter if Sam believed he'd done the right thing as long as _Cas_ believed it.

Then Dean and Charlie showed up, and Sam and Cas's conversation was over.

The four of them shared pizza and beer together, and Dean talked and laughed the whole evening, but Sam was still worried, and he knew that Cas was still worried.

Afterward, when both Dean and Charlie had stumbled, exhausted, into their rooms, Sam just walked over to Cas and buried his head in Cas's shoulder. He felt just as tired, probably, as Dean and Charlie, but unlike them, he didn't have the luxury of being able to just go to sleep. He needed to use all of the time he could get.

"You need rest, Sam," Cas said.

"I can't worry about that until Dean is cured," Sam said.

"You cannot cure Dean if you are exhausted," Cas countered.

Sam relented. He ended up passed out on his bed, lulled to sleep by the sound of Cas softly turning pages of a book beside him.

When he woke, Cas was still there.

They put on a movie, figuring that even Dean couldn't find anything particularly suspicious about that. It was the closest they'd come to actually going on a normal date. Not that Cas was really the type of person that was easy to bring on a date.

Dean woke up late. Charlie even later. Dean went to clean the car, but Charlie wanted to join Sam and Cas, and Sam didn't have the energy to tell her she couldn't.

Maybe, though, Dean had started to kind of get the idea that Sam didn't want to spend as much time with him. It wasn't the truth, but it was safer this way, as much as it kind of stung. Sam wished he could have both Dean —the real, cured Dean— and Cas. But in order to have that, for now, Sam had to avoid Dean and go behind his back, and that was easier if Dean did some of the work for him.

Sometimes, Sam kind of just needed to stop and take a couple breaths.

That's what he liked about yoga, honestly. It was a way to force himself to stop thinking for a bit. The physical exertion tired him out enough that his thoughts quieted, and he could have a couple minutes of something close to peace.

One day, Cas walked in during the end of Sam's yoga session.

Sam was lying on the ground, his eyes closed and palms open at his sides, facing skyward.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked.

"Shavasana," Sam replied without opening his eyes or moving. "Corpse pose."

Cas stood there for a long moment, processing that. "Sam... do you wish to die?" he asked.

Sam let out a long breath. He didn't know how to answer that one. "It's not really about pretending to be dead," he said, avoiding the question. "It's for... rejuvenation, I guess. It just feels really good." Cas's intrusion had interrupted the feeling of relaxation, so Sam thought he might as well just get up.

But when Sam opened his eyes, he saw Cas getting onto the floor to lay on his back beside Sam.

Sam smiled, at that. "It's not going to do anything for you if you don't do any other yoga poses, first," he said. "That's how it works."

"Show me," Cas asked.

"Maybe tomorrow," Sam said. "I'm done with yoga for today."

Honestly, Sam was a little afraid he'd get into a habit of doing too much yoga. Shavasana was kind of addictive. Especially to someone like Sam, who had so little peace and relaxation in his day-to-day life.

Trust Sam to find the unhealthy way to do a healthy habit.

Maybe Cas could help him with moderation. Cas was good at that, when it didn't involve himself. All three of them—Sam, Cas, and Dean— kind of had that problem. They needed each other for balance.

Which is why Sam got angry when Dean started to do cases without him. Dean keeping his distance was one thing; Dean going in without backup was unacceptable. Especially because Dean seemed to do just fine without Sam, and Sam didn't like to think about that.

So Sam went on a case without Dean. Without Cas, even. He went alone in the hopes that Dean wouldn't find out the specifics of why Sam picked this case, but also some part of Sam needed to prove that he could do this alone, too. That he didn't need their stupid codependency.

And, predictably, he almost got them both killed, and proved that he very much did need Dean to be with him.

Cas insisted on healing Sam as soon as he found out what had happened. Sam reluctantly let him. At least when he physically felt like shit, it matched the way he felt mentally and emotionally. The worst part was that Cas understood that.

"You can't die, Sam," Cas said. "Even if you think it'll save your brother."

"Why not?" Sam said, tired of pretending that he was okay.

Cas looked at him with those sincere, sad blue eyes. "Because I love you," Cas said.

Sam could count on one hand the people who had said those words to him. He couldn't even remember a time that _Dean_ had said _I love you_ to Sam, though both of them knew that they did love each other. It just wasn't something they talked about. They shoved it behind walls, and doors, and bottles of beer.

"You don't mean less to me than Dean, Sam," Cas said.

Sam realized he should probably say something back. But what he said was: "Really?"

Cas nodded. He leaned down and kissed Sam gently on the cheek.

Sam reached out and caught Cas's hand, stopping him from stepping away. Sam squeezed it tight, then stood up.

"Thanks, Cas," Sam said, taking a breath. "I love you, too." His face heated, and he looked away, scratching the back of his head. "So, um, can we agree that neither of us get to sacrifice ourselves for Dean?"

"That seems fair," Cas said.

And miraculously, after that conversation, Sam felt a little bit better. Still not great, since the whole _wanting to die_ thing had been hitting him off and on since the trials, but he could work on that later. After they saved Dean.

 

* * *

 

_"Someone just tell me she's going to be okay."_

_"Yeah, Cas. Of course. She'll be okay."_

 

* * *

 

Dean was getting worse. Losing control. Beating up non-monster assholes and stopping just short of killing them.

Sam was glad that they were able to help Claire, but he spent the whole time worrying about Dean. They needed to work harder to find a cure. Sam wasn't sure how much time they had left before Dean just completely snapped and did something that he couldn't return from.

He thought he'd call Charlie, and get her to come help. They needed all hands on deck for this one.

Sam walked into the Bunker library, and Dean looked up at him from the table he was sitting at.

"Hey," Sam said.

"Well, you look like crap on toast," Dean said.

"I just haven't... really been sleeping well," Sam said. It wasn't actually a lie, but then again, Sam spent most of his life without getting enough sleep.

"There's a woman you haven't mentioned?" Dean asked.

"A woman?" Sam said. _Right track, but wrong tree_ , he thought.

"Well, I'm just saying. You weren't here when I went to bed last night. You've been running off on your own these past couple weeks," Dean said.

Great. Dean finally decided to be observant enough to notice that something was up. Sam made his excuses, and tried not to stumble through them too much.

He got a call from Cas later, when they were working a case. He wasn't really somewhere where he could talk openly, so he ended the call quickly and told Dean it was a telemarketer. Dean looked at him a bit suspiciously, but seemed to accept Sam's explanation.

Cas called again back at the bunker, but Sam missed the call because he'd left his phone in the library. When he stepped back into the room, he saw Dean standing next to the phone with an odd expression on his face.

"That's, uh, that's mine, right?" Sam motioned to the phone.

"Hey, uh, you talk to... talk to Cas recently?" Dean asked.

And that's when Sam knew that Cas had called again, and Dean had answered it. "No. Um, not for a while. Why?" Sam asked.

Dean asked a few more questions, and Sam tried to make his answers as vague and flippant as he could, hoping to throw Dean off the scent. Sam could see the gears trying to turn in Dean's head, though. Trying to put everything together.

Sam hoped it'd take Dean just a little bit longer to figure it all out. They were so close to finding the cure. And after that, then Sam would tell him.

When Sam walked back into his room, Cas was there.

"Cas? What are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"You were not answering my calls," Cas said. He sounded offended.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Dean..." Sam trailed off into a sigh. "He's getting suspicious."

"Is he here right now?" Cas asked.

"No, he said he was going to make a grocery run," Sam said. He walked out of his room, and Cas followed close behind him.

"Sam, I am not sure that I will be able to handle keeping an eye on both Charlie and Rowena," Cas said.

They walked into the bunker library, and Sam stopped there. "You can handle it, Cas," he said. "I'm sure of it." He smiled, and Cas gave him a small smile in return.

In that moment, Sam just really wanted to kiss him. So he did. Just a brief kiss, something for Cas to take with him on the road.

But as they parted, Sam had a sudden sense that they weren't alone.

He and Cas turned at the same time.

Only to find Dean there, standing at the end of the room.

Sam's heart stopped. "Dean, this isn't—" he started.

"This isn't _what_? Are you trying to tell me that this—" Dean gestured to Sam and Cas. "Isn't exactly what I fucking think it is?"

Sam felt a flash of anger. "And what if it is, Dean?" he said.

"I knew you were hiding something, but _this_ , Sam?" Dean said. "When were you planning on telling me that you were fucking Cas?" He started walking towards them, anger in his stride.

"I dunno, Dean. Maybe because I wanted to avoid all of this!" Sam said.

"And you, Cas," Dean said, turning towards him. "Whatever happened to our _profound bond_?" he sneered.

_This is the Mark affecting him_ , Sam reminded himself. _The real Dean wouldn't act like this_.

Cas said nothing. Just stared at Dean and looked almost lost.

"Oh, c'mon Dean," Sam said, stepping in to defend Cas. "He's been in love with you for years, but you were too chickenshit to do anything about it." He took a breath. "So I did."

"Yeah, well I don't swing that way. And I thought you didn't, either," Dean said.

"Really?" Sam snorted. "You're still claiming that?"

"Cas is my friend. I'm not— I'm not _gay_ ," Dean said.

"You've done a bang-up job at being friends with him," Sam snapped. "He bends over backwards to do everything for you, and you just get angry at him and turn him away, or beat him up when something makes him get in your way."

Dean was starting to look fucking pissed. But Sam wasn't afraid of him. This confrontation was a long time coming.

"Do you know what he's been doing for you? What we've _both_ been doing for you, Dean?" Sam asked. "A lot of fucked up things that you're not going to like when all of this is over. But it'll be worth it, because we'll have you back. The _real_ you."

"This _is_ the real me," Dean said. "Realer than ever, baby. _I'm_ not the one who's been lying this whole time!"

"Fine. Want me to tell you the truth?" Sam said. "Me and Cas are a couple. Have been for months now. And the Book of the Damned? I didn't destroy it. Rowena has it, and Charlie is helping her translate it." Sam saw the flash of rage in Dean's eyes, and he anticipated Dean's fist swinging at his face in time to duck it.

"There's more than that," Sam said, "But that's the just of it. And I would do all of it all over again."

This time, Dean's fist connected, and Sam felt a sharp pain at the impact. He dodged the next swing, then threw a punch of his own.

Cas started to move closer, but Sam said: "It's okay, Cas. I'm the one he's angry at."

"I could kill you, Sam, you know that?" Dean said. "Just go full dark-side, like Cain said is gonna happen. If it's inevitable, why wait?" He laughed, but it was a harsh, unpleasant laugh. "You're just going to find some other thing to lie about. Some other way to betray me."

"I'm not _betraying_ you," Sam snapped. "You're just... oh my god, you're _jealous_."

And yeah, maybe this wasn't the best time to have this conversation with Dean, because as soon as Sam said that, he found himself getting slammed against the wall.

Sam had to fight back. Just talking it out wasn't going to work with Dean right now. He had to fight, and eventually Dean would get this out of his system and gain control of himself again.

He prepared to shove at Dean, but then Cas was there, pulling Dean off of him.

Dean wrenched free, and Cas crashed into the table, knocking off papers and books and a couple empty coffee mugs. The mugs shattered upon impact with the floor, sending ceramic shards skittering across the ground.

When Dean turned around, he had an angel blade in his hand.

Normally, Sam and Cas together could easily take Dean in a fight. But after the Mark? They'd barely been a match for demon Dean, and this time, they weren't even prepared for this fight.

"Sometimes, I really hate you, Sam," Dean said. He'd said stuff like that before, all jokes, of course, but this time, Sam knew that he actually meant it.

"Yeah, well, I don't, Dean," Sam said. "I... y'know," he said, keeping an eye on the angel blade in Dean's hands.

They fought. Sam and Cas against Dean. But Sam was tiring, and he knew that Cas wasn't going to be a match for Dean on his own.

"I won't kill you, Dean," Sam said, desperate.

"That's where we're different, Sam," Dean snapped.

And then Sam felt the tip of the blade against his chest.

All at once, the room stood still. Cas got to his feet, too far away to stop Dean before Dean plunged the blade into Sam's heart. And Sam just stared up at Dean and tried to find some hint of his brother in Dean's face, distorted by anger.

The blade pressed deeper into Sam. He almost felt it pierce skin, but not yet.

"So what's stopping you, Dean?" Sam asked, breathing shallowly to prevent the blade from cutting him. "If you're going to kill me, then why aren't you doing it?"

Dean said nothing. He just stared down at Sam, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Sam said. "I just... I guess I was afraid that if I told you the truth, I'd lose you." He closed his eyes, waiting for Dean to finally snap and kill him. If this was going to be the last time he talked to his brother, Sam wanted it to end on a note of forgiveness, not accusation.

Since Dean still wasn't saying anything, Sam kept talking. "I understand why you hate me. Sometimes, _I_ hate me, too." He took a short breath, feeling the pressure of the knife against his chest. His eyes were full of tears, but he was trying his hardest to hold them back.

"Sammy, I‒" Dean cut himself off, his voice rough. "I don't hate you," he said. "I _can't_ hate you. No matter how many times you do stuff that pisses me off." His anger flared up again, and the blade pressed a little harder.

Sam opened his eyes. He blinked aside the tears to focus on Dean's face.

"No, dammit, I'm not going to do this!" Dean yelled. His hand that grasped the angel blade was shaking, like he was fighting the urge to stick it right into Sam's heart. "Sammy, I‒ I love you," Dean said, stumbling through the words.

There was a flash of light.

Dean let out a scream of pain, dropping the angel blade and leaning back, away from Sam. The mark on his arm was glowing bright, the air around it crackling with energy.

For a long moment, the Mark of Cain glowed red and angry. Then the light turned softer, and Dean stopped screaming.

When the white light faded, Dean's arm was bare.

"It's gone," Sam breathed.

Dean stared at his arm with a look of shocked awe.

Sam heaved himself up, and then he wrapped his arms around Dean and hugged him. After a moment, Dean's arms slowly came up, and he returned the embrace.

"How...?" Dean asked. "Did you do this, Sam?"

"I don't think so?" Sam said, confused.

"If I may, I think I might have an explanation," Cas said, walking over to them.

Sam smiled at him, filled with a delayed rush of relief. He didn't try and touch Cas, even though he wanted to. Everything was still a little too tense with Dean right now for that.

"What is it?" Dean asked Cas.

"When Cain killed his brother, he did so out of jealousy. That was the crime that earned him the punishment of bearing the Mark. But Dean, instead of killing Sam, you told him that you loved him. Those words, said in true honesty to your brother, were what removed the curse."

Dean blinked. "Wait," he said. "You're telling me it was _that_ easy this whole time?"

"I mean, you don't exactly throw around the words _I love you_ very much, Dean," Sam said.

"And it is possible that strong feelings of jealousy were also needed," Cas added. "Since you made the choice to love your brother despite your jealousy instead of hating him because of it. This is where your path diverged from Cain's."

"But I'm not jealous!" Dean said. "I don't care who Sam decides to fuck!"

Sam and Cas exchanged a look. Noticing that, Dean bristled. Sam couldn't hold back an amused grin at how transparent Dean was.

"Actually, I haven't had sex with Cas," Sam said.

"You haven't?" Dean asked, confused.

"I thought you didn't care, Dean," Sam said, clapping him on the shoulder. He turned to walk out of the room, already trying to think about what he was going to say to Charlie and Rowena.

Eventually, Dean would figure out that there was no reason for him to be jealous of Sam and Cas. Sam loved him so much, and he knew that Cas did, too. And maybe, it was just that simple.


End file.
